Categories > Books > Harry Potter > A THOUSAND YEARS

parts 6 7 & 8

by Alorkin 9 reviews

some revenge, some skullduggery and some evidence comes to light.

Category: Harry Potter - Rating: PG-13 - Genres: Drama - Characters: Dumbledore,Moody,Peter - Warnings: [!] - Published: 2013-05-21 - 6931 words - Complete

A THOUSAND YEARS, parts 6, 7 & 8

A/N: I will (hopefully) be posting two chapters this week, today and Friday. Hereafter, I will be posting on Fridays.


May 11 85:
In an ancient castle in a remote part of Scotland some four hundred miles north of London, a manipulative old man discovered a small, decayed wooden box on his desk. Next to it was an envelope. He could tell that inside the box, was some of the darkest magicks ever…and the ‘feel’ of the magic told him who was responsible for this particular bit.

It was a toss up as to which he’d open first. The box or the letter.

He chose the box.


The fire brigade’s investigation showed that Frank Bryce had had nothing to do with the fire. All Harry’s carefully placed evidence showed that lightning had struck; it was simple as that. Lightning had struck the manor, and as old as it was, the house was a tinderbox. Insurance would cover the cost, which is why the owner kept it in the first place, but Frank needed a new job.

Interestingly enough, they found that another bolt had struck nearby, utterly destroying a small tramp’s shack that had been hidden by the brush.

Three weeks later, a veteran’s group ‘somehow’ found Frank, and asked him to become one of their counselors. When he replied he was an old curmudgeon, and doubted he’d do much good as he had no experience mollycoddling people, they waved it off, claiming that sometimes difficult cases needed a hardliner.

He took the job and immediately relocated to Cheltenham.


May 20 85: 3:00 AM

Ottery St. Catchpole:

Harry’s little scout floated beside Percy Weasley’s bedroom window, four floors above the ground.

A pale beam flashed through the opened window and both boy and rat slept more deeply.

The rat floated out the window. The boy remained, dreaming of boyish things.

Down in the lounge, a shimmering light appeared, and when it had faded, in its place was a trunk filled with gold.

May 20 85: 9:00 AM, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry:

Albus entered his office for the first time in more than a week, his blackened and withered hand demonstrating that he’d made a grievous error. On the floor behind his desk, he found the thing that had damned him. The box sat opened on his desktop, and the ring, the evil ring he’d just barely managed to fling away, lay on the floor, it’s flat black stone glinting in the torchlight. Raising his wand, banished the box to an active lava vent on Mt. Aetna, then levitated the signet into a copper and crystal box on the desk and glared at it. If the curse was still active…and he had no reason to believe it was not, he couldn’t even use the ring to summon Ariana.

He sighed. The curse had instantly attacked his hand, withering it away within minutes. Together he and Severus were able to slow its spread, but there was no stopping it. Suddenly he was not so sure of his long held belief: ‘To the well organized mind, death is but the next great adventure.’ In truth, Albus Dumbledore was as afraid of dying as any other man.

For nearly an hour, he sat at his desk and stared at the crystal box, praying to a god he didn’t believe in, to spare his life. There was so much more he needed to do! The sheep needed a shepherd and without a properly indoctrinated Harry Potter to take his place, there was no telling what would happen.

He sighed. He’d have to make some very carefully worded laws making advancement and interaction with the muggles a crime. The wizarding world had to remain true to their long-held traditions or they’d become simply another…minority to be abused, neglected, and eventually…forgotten.

Deciding to get on with the days’ work, he was about to lever himself out of his chair when he noticed the envelope lying on the desk…the letter he’d ignored. It had arrived with the box. Perhaps there was a clue within, as to the curse that afflicted him. Perhaps it held word of some treatment or counter-curse.

He opened it to find it held anything but.

Albus Dumbledore.

Hasn’t your mother ever told you not to touch things
that didn’t belong to you? The ring was not only the
Resurrection Stone, but also a horcrux for little Tommy
Riddle. As you can clearly see, it was quite well protected.
I removed the soul piece, but left the protections intact.

If Snivellus is helping, you have about a year left.
Oh, by the way, while you were sleeping in the hospital
wing, I stole the Elder wand, used it a few times, and
returned it. Now, It’s just a wand. I’ve also taken
James Potter’s cloak…and Gryffindor’s sword.

Someone Who Knows More Than You Do.

The parchment began to smoulder and soon enough it was only a thin layer of ash on the desktop.

Dumbledore slumped into his throne-like chair and wept.


May 20 85: 07:00

In the Bones home, Tootles woke her mistress with her usual morning tea, and some unusual news.

“Mistress Amelia, they is being a rat in a cage on the breakfast table. Tootles is not knowing how it is getting there! Moppet is being guarding the rat. This note is being having your name on it.”

Amelia took the note from the worried elf. Hers was one of only a few families that treated the elves like people instead of invisible servants, or in some cases…like the Malfoy’s…vermin. Tootles knew she would not only, not order her to punish herself, but actually forbad it! Moppet told her the Potters had been the same way.

Opening the letter, she immediately choked on the tea she’d been drinking.

Hello! My name is Peter Pettigrew. I am an unregistered animagus. I take the form of a large grey rat. I am also a Death Eater and a traitorous secret keeper. I have been living in the Weasley’s home as a pet, since I led the dark lord to the Potters. None of the Weasleys knows what I am.

I would suggest you keep me caged and find a way to force me into my human form and keep me from reassuming my alternate one. A bottle of Veritaserum would also not be amiss. I would also suggest you not let Albus Dumbledore know of this until it is too late for him to interfere, as he was well aware of the switch in secret keeping duties, as he cast the Fidelius charm himself.

By the way, Lucius Malfoy, Denias Avery, Thomas Crabbe, Gregory Goyle, Thaddeus Nott, Walden Macnair, and Oristes Parkinson are not nearly as innocent as they want you to believe. Additionally, Fenrir Greyback should be put down for the sake of the community. He is personally responsible for infecting more than seventy percent of all the werewolves in Britain since 1962.

Madam Bagnold should be investigated as to the ‘interesting contributions’ she’s received from Malfoy and his friends in exchange for their pretty declarations of innocence, and for God’s sake, don’t allow Cornelius Fudge to be elected. He’s a piss-poor Minister in peacetime and an even worse one during time of war.

Fudge is easily controlled by both Malfoy’s gold and Dumbledore’s rhetoric, and never makes any decision without consulting one or the other…and sometimes both.

Delores Umbridge is in possession of six, class three, dark artifacts, specifically Occamy Quills. If she has her way, all other-than-pureblood-human magical beings will be wiped out…


Two hours later at the Ministry, Amelia called her second, Constance Hammer to the office. There, in a cage on her desk, lay a stunned rat.

Seating her guest, she poured tea for both.

“Connie. I received the strangest letter this morning.” She handed the note over and watched, as Connie’s reaction was identical to hers.

A snicker and a wave of her wand, and the mess was gone.

“You did that on purpose!” Connie groused as she wiped her mouth.

“Of course!” Amelia laughed. “There are so few opportunities for entertainment in this job, I take what I can get.”

“Is this real?”

“The only way to find out is to do as the note says, but I want to have plenty of unimpeachable witnesses there…and that does not mean Lucius ‘I-was-under-Imperius’ Malfoy.

“All right. How about Dumbledore?” Connie managed to hide a smirk.

Her boss snarled: “Hell - and - NO!”

Now she did laugh. “OK. Just checking. Let’s see. Augusta Longbottom?”

“Definitely! How about Robards?” Amelia suggested.

“OK, he’s good. Arthur Weasley…no, wait. Damn! He’s connected to…”

“I want him here anyway. Despite his membership in Dumbledore’s little vigilante club I would never consider him to be a suspect…Molly, possibly; she holds Dumbledore like unto a god, but I trust Arthur.” Amelia countered. “Scrimgeour?”

“Don’t like him personally. He’s too willing to ‘bend the laws’ to make his case, but he is a well-trained Auror. Pius? He’s next in line.”

“There’s something off about that one. Nothing I can put my finger on, but…” Amelia mused.

“Croaker?” Connie volunteered.

“Absolutely! I wonder why I didn’t think of him?”

“No idea, but if this is right, I think we can assume our twinkling headmaster has his paw in it somewhere.”

“Who else?” Amelia asked, agreeing completely with her Protégé’s assessment of the manipulative old wizard.

“Diggory. He’s in Dumbledore’s camp too, but he’s never given me any bad vibes.”

“OK. How about Slughorn. He takes his ‘hobby’ a bit far, in my opinion, but he does know his potions.”

“All right. How ‘bout some from the ranks?”

“Such as?”

“Cornfoot and Shacklebolt. Both are good solid officers. Cornfoot’s been a Field Training Auror for a few years and has moulded several trainees into outstanding Aurors. Shack’s just qualified as field supervisor, and in a few more years, he’ll be in line for his own crop of trainees.”

“Alright. Any one else?”

“How about Andi Tonks?”

“I like. She’s a junior partner with Chapman and Associates. Speaking of…let’s ask Carolyn to join us too. Even the goblins won’t cross her! Actually, I understand they want to adopt her!” Amelia snickered. “If we need independent support, there’s no one I’d like more on our side, than her.”

“That it?”

“Yeah. That’s good enough.”

“All right. I’ll send out the invitations.”

“Wait!” Amelia barked. Connie stopped with an enquiring look. “I want at least two…no, make that three, court scriveners to be here. Everything is to be recorded.”

“Gotcha!” and Connie left a pensive Amelia in her office.


The ‘invited guests’ appeared within an hour to find a sleeping rat in a cage.

“What is the meaning of this? Your invitation implied this was a matter of vital importance to wizarding Britain.” Augusta Longbottom was not happy.

“Please Augusta. Let’s wait until everybody is here.”

The dowager matriarch of House Longbottom, glared fiercely, but as she’d known Amelia for most of the younger woman’s life, and knew she was not one for histrionics; she accepted her caution.

Within minutes the rest had arrived and when they had seated themselves, Amelia greeted them. “Good morning. This morning I was awakened by my house elf, with some rather interesting news. First, there was a rat…this rat, in a cage on my breakfast table.” She pointed to the sleeping rodent. “Neither Tootles nor Moppet could tell me where the rat had come from, nor how it managed to get through my family’s wards. Second, was this note.”

She projected the note on the wall for all to see.

“Is this a joke!?!” Scrimgeour demanded.

“To the best of my knowledge, Rufus…no. As impossible as it should be, this is exactly as it seems. I’ve already scanned the rat with the revealing spell, and he is indeed, an animagus. Let’s see what he has to say.”

Carolyn stood and cleared her throat. “As much as I don’t want to kick in any teeth, is this individual going to have counsel?”

“Please. Carolyn, I beg of you, don’t take this one on!” Andromeda pleaded.

“I have no intention of doing so, Andi. The Potters were as dear to me as to you, and you know quite well my father represented them until his death. Since that representation was never revoked, it falls to me to continue it. I merely want to ensure there is nothing that can be used to free this one should it come to a certain headmaster.”

Amelia nodded her head. “Any suggestions?”

“Isaac Cheatham, of Dewey, Cheatham and Howe. He’s as slippery as anybody I’ve ever seen, and a disgrace to honest barristers everywhere, but he does know his business.”

“Very well.” She turned to her protégé and said: “Please ask him to join us.”

Connie nodded, and left the room, to return seven minutes later with a corpulent, balding man with an entirely greasy look about him.

“I fully intend to file Habeas Corpus!” He bellowed even before he fully entered the room.

“Mister Cheatham, please sit down. This is merely a preliminary investigation. This individual has been determined to be an unregistered animagus, and when we wake him, he will be arrested on that charge. Also, an accusation has been made concerning his alleged culpability in the Potters’ murders. Since he is specifically named as a Death Eater…” She pointed to the projected note. “…he will be questioned under Veritaserum, per the Death Eater act of 1982, and if the questioning proves fruitful, he will be lawfully indicted and tried. You are here for the sole purpose of ensuring he is not denied his rights.”

Cheatham sat.

The rat was released from his cage and forced back into his human form. Arthur Weasley was shocked as he recognized Scabbers…and nearly fainted as he saw his son’s pet became an equally recognizable person.

Amelia touched his arm. “Steady on, Arthur. You are not suspected of any wrongdoing.”

Two Aurors covered the animagus while two others searched him for anything he might have been carrying. They found two wands; several thousand galleons in an ever-light purse, and some items they thought could be portkeys.

“Contact Ollivander. We need to know to whom these wands belong.”

A junior Auror darted from the room and returned three minutes later with Sagacious Ollivander in tow. He took one look at the unconscious Pettigrew and sighed.

“Mister Ollivander, do you recognise either of these wands?”

Ollivander looked over the two wands, one he’d hoped to never see again. “I do. This wand, chestnut and dragon heartstring, 9 and a quarter inches, rather brittle if I recall…I sold this wand to Peter Pettigrew in August of seventy.”

He picked up the other and immediately set it back down as if it hurt him to handle it. “And this one, is yew, thirteen and a half inches long with a phoenix feather core. This wand was purchased in nineteen thirty-five, by Tom Marvolo Riddle…you know him better as Lord Voldemort.”

Shrieks from many of those gathered, sounded throughout the room, and the obligatory shudder passed through all of them. Amelia made a note to include training in the Aurors programme, so as to not display such undignified reactions. They could feel fear; that was natural, but to show it like they had, was counterproductive at best.

“Is there anyone here who disagrees with Mister Ollivander’s expertise on the matter of wandcraft or has reservations as to his business acumen?” That question was directed specifically to Cheatham.

He remained silent, though Amelia could see he was sweating.

Thanking Ollivander, she dropped the wands into evidence bags, and sealed them with her star.

Since Ollivander was considered to be as incorruptible as Amelia herself, she asked him to remain. He nodded his head sadly and sat in the second row.

Amelia instructed them to cut the man’s aged and worn robes away from his arms. When they did, they all saw the faded dark mark. Isaac Cheatham stood to depart. “There’s no need for my further presence. He’s a Death Eater. I’ll not be associated with that lot! Not even in passing.”

This comment drew a few raised eyebrows given as Cheatham had defended most of the wealthier Deez who’d claimed ‘Imperius’.

“Sit down, Cheatham.” Amelia ordered. “As I said before, you are here only to ensure procedures are complied with.”

Cheatham sat once more, but Amelia’s sharp eyes caught him rubbing the inside of his forearm. A hand signal told two Aurors to sit behind him…just in case.

And it began.

Pettigrew woke to find himself facing three wands, with three very unfriendly Aurors behind them.

“Sit there!” One ordered, pointing to a chair.

When Peter didn’t move, the Auror levitated him into the chair and ropes appeared to bind him to the wood.

“Hello, Mister Pettigrew.” Amelia began.

“Objection!” Cheatham shouted. “You’ve not positively identified this man as Peter Pettigrew!”

“He was in possession of both Pettigrew’s wand, and the dark lord’s. Since he is clearly not the dark lord that only leaves Pettigrew. If you need further corroboration Mister Cheatham, look at his right hand.”

Dewey did so and found the man in the chair to be missing a finger. According to the news reports, the only thing left of Peter Pettigrew was his finger. Cheatham was certain that finger would fit all too well.

“I withdraw my objection.”

“Peter Pettigrew, you have been discovered to be an unregistered animagus, therefore I am placing you under arrest on that charge. In addition, per the Death Eater act of 1982, as introduced by Albus Dumbledore, then and current Chief of the Wizengamot, and signed into law by Millicent Bagnold, then and current Minister of Magic, which allows and requires any prisoner bearing the Dark Mark, or any prisoner who is named as a Death Eater or other supporter of Voldemort, to be interrogated under Veritaserum. You have both been named a Death Eater…” She lifted the written missive. “…and bear such a mark.”

Then to the Auror: “Administer the Veritaserum.”

Peter struggled mightily, but to no avail. A quick stunner and he fell lax against the chair. Three drops of the shimmering liquid were placed on his tongue. When they’d been absorbed, he was enervated.

“Now then. What is your full name?”

“Peter Pettigrew, I have no middle name.” Peter replied in the characteristic monotone of those under the influence of the truth serum.

“You bear the dark mark. Do you do so willingly?”

“I do.”

“When did you join the Death Eaters?”

“December twentieth of seventy six.”

“Why did you join the Death Eaters”

“Albus ordered it. He needed a way to verify Severus’ information.”

“What happened then?”

“I discovered I enjoyed being a Death Eater.”

“What do you mean?”

“I enjoyed torturing the mudbloods and the muggles.”


“Very much. I got a stiffie when I did it.”

Although Amelia knew precisely what the word ‘stiffie’ meant, she knew some others did not. “Define ‘stiffie’.”

“A hard-on. I became sexually aroused.” The audience ranged from shocked to furious. Only Cheatham was unaffected. Taking notice of this, Amelia continued her questioning.

“Who knew you were a Death Eater?”

“Albus, the dark lord and all the inner circle Death Eaters.”

“Was Sirius Black an inner circle Death Eater?” This one had niggled at her mind for so long, but with Dumbledore’s cooperation, Bagnold had prohibited anybody from seeing the traitor.


“Was Sirius Black a Death Eater at all?” Carolyn interjected, earning her a glare from both Amelia and Augusta. Pettigrew’s simple ‘no’ caused both their mouths to drop open. Andromeda looked like she was about to faint. Carolyn held her and made her drink her a light blue potion. As the calming draught took effect, Andi smiled her thanks at her friend and employer.

Meanwhile, Augusta was asking: “Are you certain Sirius Black was not a Death Eater?”


Amelia tried to get things back on track. “Who was the Potter’s secret Keeper?”

“At first, Sirius was, but they changed to me.”

“Did you betray the Potters to the dark lord Voldemort?”


“Who knew you were the Potter’s secret keeper?”

“James, the mudblood, Sirius, Albus, Severus, and the dark lord.”

This caused a stir. That Dumbledore; for there was no other wizard with the first name of Albus in all of Europe…possibly all the world; knew of Pettigrew’s affiliation and yet allowed him to become secret keeper, for the dark lord’s highest priority targets, was nothing less than a horrible crime. That he’d specifically told the newspapers that Black was secret keeper when he knew it was Pettigrew…was another.

“Describe…specifically, the events of Hallowe’en night of 1981.”

“I led the master to Dumbledore’s cottage in Godric’s Hollow at just before mid-night. He blew the door open with a reductor and killed James.”

“How did he kill James Potter?” Scrimgeour interrupted. “James was an excellent duelist.”

“Dumbledore placed a Confundus charm on James to keep him from dueling properly.”

Growls sounded from the assembled. Even Cheatham was appalled.

“What happened next?” Amelia prodded.

“My lord went up the stairs. I followed. He found the mudblood there, blocking his way to her spawn. He ordered her aside, but she refused, and paid the price for defying him. The dark lord cast the Avada Kedavra curse at her whelp next, and then, there was an explosion. When I woke, all I could hear was the brat sniveling. I picked up the dark lord’s wand and was about to kill the half-blood, when I heard someone just outside the door. I knew if Sirius had found me, he would have killed me, so I shifted into my animagus form and hid while Hagrid searched through the room. He found the mudblood and her spawn, and took him outside. I could hear Sirius arguing with him, but the giant wouldn’t let the boy go. He told Sirius that Dumbledore had given orders to bring Potter to him in Surrey, to give to Lily’s sister. I hid until Hagrid left on Sirius’ flying motorbike and Sirius apparated away.”

The audience was more than appalled. From this testimony, Albus Dumbledore had not only set up the Potters for murder, he’d also made absolutely certain it would happen!

Controlling her fury, Amelia continued her questioning.

“What happened in Manchester?”

“Sirius was better at tracking than I imagined. He found me. As soon as I saw him, I knew he was going to kill me, so I shouted out that he’d betrayed the Potters and blasted the street between us to escape.

When the smoke had cleared, Sirius was still standing, so I hit him with a Confundus, cut off my finger and escaped into the sewer.

“Did you know you killed more than a dozen people? Some of them were children!”

“They were just muggles.”

Growls of rage and disgust echoed throughout the room. Amelia had to shout to restore order. “Cornfoot, Shacklebolt, I want you to take this…” She broke off before she could compromise the case with her anger. While disreputable and corrupt as they came, Isaac Cheatham was good enough to convince others to interpret her anger as bias. With Malfoy’s gold behind him, Peter would be ‘declared innocent by means of Imperius’, Veritaserum testimony be damned! She took a breath and spoke again. “Take Pettigrew to a safe house. The Ministry is most certainly compromised and I want him to live to see trial. I’ll schedule it as soon as I can.”

Sounds of agreement came from the rest of the ‘attendees’.

“But first…we have an innocent man in Azkaban. I want him out of there before either Dumbledore or Millicent gets wind of this! She rapidly filled out an order for transfer for one Sirius Orion Black, and handed it to Connie.

“Get Alastor. He hates Death Eaters with an unholy passion, and he’s a little too into Dumbledore’s camp for my liking, but he is a solid and dependable officer. He’s also one of the few who can tolerate extended contact with Dementors. Personally, I think they’re afraid of him.”

Chuckles filled the room.

As everyone was standing to go, Amelia cleared her throat.

“There is one more thing…Mister Cheatham, let me see your arms!” She held a wand aimed at Isaac’s head.

“What!” He sputtered. “This is outrageous!”

“Let me see your arms! If I’m wrong I will apologize publicly and before witnesses of your choosing.”

“No! I refuse! How dare you…?”

A stunner flashed out and Cheatham fell. Andromeda stood there, pale and trembling with anger. Despite his earlier assertion, everybody present knew Isaac Cheatham had defended all the wealthy Death Eaters who’d escaped justice by claiming ‘Imperius’, but he had never once even looked into her cousin’s situation.

Connie flipped open a knife and slit the sleeve of Cheatham’s robes. There on his left forearm, near the crook of his elbow, was the evil mark.

“Well, well, well, well, well!” Amelia sighed. “It looks like we have another Death Eater to question.”

Angry eyes around her agreed fully. She added sadly: “Get Sirius to a safe house. Get this idiot to another one. In the meanwhile, I have a department head to arrest.”


Grimmauld place was as it had always been. Dark, dreary and, well…grim. Harry passed through the wards without being noticed. Inside, he ascended directly to the drawing room on the third floor. There! In the glass fronted cabinet, the old locket rested on a pad of cloth. Harry opened the door wandlessly and ignoring the fierce burn in his scar, lifted the evil thing from its spot, wrapped it in a flannel and tucked it into his pocket.

Down, below, he saw Kreacher tending to his insane mistress. Walburga Black wheezed in agony as the lung infection killed her a little bit more.

“Kreacher, go contact Maestro Pourbondir and have him come here. I require a portrait before I die!

Kreacher departed and Harry saw his chance. A bit of magic and Walburga Black suffered a fatal heart attack.

Kreacher, feeling his mistress die, popped back without the portraiteur.

“Oh, Mistress!” He croaked. “Poor Mistress is dead and Kreacher is all alone!”

Harry cast a powerful compulsion on Kreacher, to attend to the funereal details for Walburga and then place himself on the wall.

When the old house elf departed, he did as well.


Connie and Alastor Moody appeared in the portkey room at Azkaban prison. Instantly three guards had them at wand point.

“Halt!” One ordered. “State your full names, ranks, and purpose!”

“Constance Irene Hammer. Deputy Head of the D. M. L. E. Prisoner transfer.”

“Alastor none of your goddamn business, Moody. Master Auror. Prisoner transfer.”

Connie held out the transfer order and her star. The door opened and both were escorted to the Warden Hempstead’s office.

“What’s this about a transfer?” Hempstead blustered. “The Minister didn’t tell me about any transfer!”

“The Minister doesn’t know just yet. This order came from Amelia Bones, and is well within her authority as head of the DMLE.” Connie snarked. “Peter Pettigrew was captured this morning, rather more alive than we expected him to be, and per the Death Eater act of ‘82, interrogated under Veritaserum. During questioning he admitted that he’d framed Sirius Black for his crimes, but Crouch sent Black here anyway. Now, unless you have any legitimate concerns, you will escort us to pick up Black. Oh by the way, if he ‘turns up mysteriously dead in his cell’, you will be returning with us…in chains! Capische?”

Angus Hempstead nodded. Even if he wanted to, he wouldn't obstruct them. Sirius Black had always been a huge black question mark in his mind, but orders from Bagnold and Dumbledore prohibited even the most basic questioning.


At the same time, Amelia, Connie and Kingsley stepped through the doorway to the Department of International Cooperation. Seeing her target Amelia said; “Bartemius Crouch, you are under arrest on suspicion of dereliction of duty, malfeasance and improperly executing the duties of your former office, leading to the imprisonment of at least one innocent man.”

“Crouch’s wand was out and up before she’d spoken more than first half dozen words. Fortunately, Kingsley was expecting something of the sort, and dropped the older man before he could fire. In fact, it wasn’t until a full six seconds after he’d fallen, that she’d finished her spiel.

“Thank you, Mister Shacklebolt. Please bind him and check his arms.”

Kingsley did so, but found no mark. Several minutes later, under the influence of the powerful truth serum, Crouch handed them several rather surprising bits of news.

Sirius Black had never been tried.

Albus Dumbledore had ordered his immediate and permanent isolation in the ultimate-security section of Azkaban.

Minister Bagnold had countersigned the order.

And last, Barty Junior wasn’t quite as dead as they had thought. He was, in fact, being held under Imperius at the Crouch home.

Amelia rubbed her nose. The shit was really going to hit the fan now!


Azkaban Prison:

Hempstead had ordered the Dementors away from the ultimate-security section of the ancient fortress, before leading the two Aurors through the cramped tunnels. They stopped about halfway down and he unlocked a cell to their left. Connie wanted to gag at the stench that assaulted her senses. Even Mad-Eye recoiled.

Forcing herself to not vomit, Connie looked into the cell to find a filthy, ragged and emaciated, Sirius black looking back through surprisingly sane eyes.

“God, Sirius, you look terrible!”

“Hello, Connie.” The black haired prisoner rasped through a throat unused for years. “Y’know, I think you’re gonna have to work on your technique.” He managed to grin. “That really doesn’t do much to set the mood!” Behind her Moody barked out a short laugh.

“Shaddap, you great prat!” she laughed, then turned serious. “I have good news for you. We caught Peter!”

Instantly Sirius’ eyes glowed with a manic gleam.

“No! You can’t kill him!” Connie insisted. Moody just watched, a half smile on his ruined face.

“Not even a little bit?” Sirius whinged.

“Not even a little bit, arsehole!” She shot back, happy to see his four years’ incarceration hadn’t caused Sirius nearly as much damage as had been feared.

“We’re taking you to a safe house. Unfortunately since you’ve been tried in the media already, we can’t just let you go. The good news is that Carolyn Chapman will represent you at your trial. Since Peter will be tried as well, you’ll be exonerated quickly, and since we’ll make sure every newspaper in Europe will be there, news of your innocence will be widespread before you leave the courtroom.”

They escorted Sirius from his cell through the low, rough-hewn, rock tunnel to the squad room where several Aurors glared death and worse at him. Several of them were not so subtly fingering their wands.

Connie portkeyed him to the Ministry while Moody stayed behind to, as he said: “Have a little chat with them about acting like bloody professionals on the job!”

Sirius was portkeyed to a safe house, and then immediately transferred to another, where a team of healers awaited him. According to Connie, he seemed to consider them to be more terrifying than the dementors.

The first thing they did was Scourgify him from head to foot. His robes didn’t survive the cleaning, and Sirius wasn’t much better off. Red and raw, he stood there, naked as the day he was born, while the healers had a go at him.

Connie snickered as the prisoner wailed at his embarrassing predicament.

Done their poking and prodding, they prescribed a series of nutritive and healing potions, proper diet, heavy on proteins, and a graduated exercise regimen, and then departed for the ministry. Sirius was immediately taken by another portkey to a third hidden location. Only Connie and Amelia knew where. Amelia had asked the Potter’s house elf, Moppet, who’d been staying with the Bones family since their murders, to take care of Sirius while he was awaiting his trial.


Later in Amelia’s office, they all shared their memories and had a good laugh.

Amelia turned serious. “While Sirius’ reaction is terribly funny…and I want a copy of that memory, if you don’t mind; your observations, Alastor, are another thing entirely. This unfortunately, illustrates several rather serious problems. First is the Auror Corps. The attitude you witnessed is prevalent in the corps…and elsewhere! We cannot allow that kind of mindset to prevail, or we’ll be fielding thugs instead of Aurors.”

“What do you suggest?”

“Not much we can do with the current group…” she sighed. “…but for the trainees, we can intensify the training and include as many of the muggles’ classes on professionalism as possible. We need that!”

“A lot of them won’t listen simply because the information came from the muggles.” Connie opined.

“So who says they have to know?” Amelia snarked. “We disguise it as being written by wizards and slip it in. We can also arrange for supplemental training for the senior officers…because some purebloods complained.” She smiled at the last.

“That’ll work.” Moody growled with a frightening grin.


On the morning of the twenty-second, Andromeda Tonks gaped at the unusual letter before her. Most of it was shielded by a security charm. Not too unusual at that, as many clients wanted privacy in their dealings, but the charm was like nothing she’d ever seen before. Moreover, the short note at the top was from someone who was dead!

Ms. Chapman,

As my family’s solicitor, I write to you on a matter of extreme urgency. The details are under the security charm. Please place three drops of blood in the square. I swear on my magic there is nothing on or in this letter, envelope or ink that will harm you. So mote it be.

Harry J. Potter

Andi sighed, and muttered; “Carolyn is not going to like this!” Standing, she took the letter to her boss.

“You look like you need a cuppa.” The smiling barrister greeted her with two cups.

“We may both need it. I just opened this.”

Carolyn scanned the letter and scoffed…until she read the name. Then she paled.

“Is it…do you think it could be true?”

“Actually, no, but the only way to know for sure, is to open it.”

“Bloody damn!”

“If it helps, I did notice that the handwriting is the same as the writing on the note in Amelia’s office.”

“Well, yes…”

Carolyn sipped her tea, and glared at the letter for a good long time, before making her decision. She picked up a contract quill and touched it to the square. Instantly a fat drop of blood appeared on the back of her hand. The touched the square twice more, then wiped the quill and dipped it in some alcohol.

The parchment flashed and the rest of the letter appeared.

Thank you for your trust, miss Chapman. As you probably assume, I am not dead, nor are the Dursleys. I have escaped their control permanently and they…well they are living a life of ease…for the species I turned them into. Petunia is now an alpaca and Vernon has become a manatee. Dudley has been regressed in age to an infant and is in a nice safe orphanage.

I am somewhere safe, and that’s all you need to know about that. I don’t know how well trained in Occlumency you are, but Dumbledore and his pet Death Eater are both skilled Legillimens’ and neither has any compunction about nicking things from other people’s minds. All for the greater good, of course.

Anyway, I’ve arranged for Sirius Black to receive a trial. I want you there either as defense barrister or ‘in Amicus Juris’, as it were, to ensure Dumbledore is neutered. Perhaps you can speak to Amelia Bones. As head of the DMLE, she should be the prosecutor. You can use the challenge of 1429, Lord Harcourt -v- the Ministry of Magic, as a precedent if you wish, but he must be recused from this trial, specifically, or Sirius will never go free. Dumbledore is as bad or worse than Isaac Cheatham…and yes, I was monitoring that. The letter itself was charmed to relay everything said or done there to me. Amelia didn’t find my monitoring charm, because the magic I’m using is a bit more advanced.

Remember, if Dumbledore can use something, or more often some ‘one’, he will. That’s why he’s written so many lovely loopholes into each of his laws.

He needs to be removed from his offices…all of them. If he retains his power over the lawmaking process, he can find a way to return Sirius to Azkaban…probably for being an unregistered animagus. Don’t let that happen! The man has already spent far too much time ‘at the Minister’s convenience’.

If he retains his power over the education of our future generations, he’ll make sure he’s seen as a great hero, struck down by an evil plot. That can’t happen. He must go down, and it must be in flames. As an aside, he’s contracted a dark-arts curse that has begun to wither his right hand. That curse was one of Tom Riddle’s favorites. I wonder how Dumbledore came afoul if it?

Just an idea.

I’d suggest a vote of no confidence in both Millicent Bagnold for her corruption and in Dumbledore for his incompetence. In the event either are sacked, Augusta Longbottom would make a fine chief of the Wizengamot and Amelia Bones would be the best choice for Minister. Both are purebloods of long standing, which will appease the more bigoted members of the council, and both are widely considered to be both moderates and entirely incorruptible.

I’ll be in contact from time to time.

Harry Potter.

Carolyn sighed, and added a healthy dollop of brandy to her tea before offering the bottle to Andromeda.

“It looks like we have some busy days ahead of us, Andi.”

“I agree.”


On the twenty fourth, Amelia found herself welcoming three mismatched women into her home. Augusta was disgusted, and both Andromeda and Carolyn were looking more than a little bit smug.

Carolyn opened the discussion.

“I received rather a surprise the day before yesterday, Amelia, and I think you should know about it.” She handed over the missive, and waited as Amelia read it.

“Oh, this is just bloody wonderful!” She spat. “Dumbledore has corrupted the laws, for whatever purpose he has in mind, and Millicent…Millie…”

“Millie has been taking bribes.” Augusta sighed. “She’s allowed those animals to escape justice…for some gold!”

We have to remove her from office.”

“It’s worse.” Carolyn opined. “We have to ruin her.”

“Carolyn…” Amelia looked at the most feared barrister in Wizarding Britain with anxious eyes.

“Amelia, I know. Millie is our friend. But if we want this country to move to the future, instead of remaining mired in the seventeenth century like Dumbledore apparently intends, we have to show that nobody is above the law…regardless of position or friendships. You know that’s how it has to be.

Amelia chewed this over for long moments, then, finally nodded. “Yes…” she sighed in regret. “I wish I didn’t, but, yes. I understand.”

“The problem is…” Augusta took the stage. “In order to remove both Dumbledore and Millie, we are going to have to form an illegal conspiracy.”

All four women were well aware that what they were planning flew in the face of everything they’d ever believed. They also knew that sometimes the needs of the nation as a whole, were more vital than the needs of any one individual. Even a friend.

That didn’t make it any easier.


A/N: Habeas Corpus is one of our most cherished Constitutional Laws, and requires the court produce the body of the crime, (not a dead body as is often assumed, but sufficient evidence indicating a crime has, in fact, been committed) before a suspect can be bound over for trial.

Aurors Hammer and Cornfoot: I contacted Old Crow a couple years ago and asked permission to use his characters. He told me he was happy to grant that permission. Interestingly enough, I’ve read at least three other authors who’ve also gotten that permission.

Maestro Pourbondir was actually a well recognized portraitist in seventeenth century France.
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